It Will Not Be Forgotten
by Princess Sammi
Summary: Heckitty Broomhead returns to Cackles for another inspection, unbeknown to them she has an ulterior agenda. Her plan is discovered but events transpire leaving her in a better position than she could have ever hoped for ...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch.**

**A/N: Hey folks. Just another idea that I've come up with, while trying to sort out all the other unfinished ones lol. I'm not a 100% sure where it is going yet, but que sera sera ... :) **

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**It Will Not Be Forgotten**

**Chapter 1**

'_**Drip Drip Drip …'**_

_**The water fell from the ceiling, the droplets falling as if in slow motion before increasing in speed as they neared the bottom and splashed onto the stone floor with great force: the droplets of water mirrored the child's tears as they pooled under her eyelids before trickling down her face and hitting the floor, mixing in with the water from the rain; it was impossible to distinguish the tears cried by the rain, from those that were cried by the frightened child.**_

_**It was dark. **_

_**So very dark. If you were to hold your hand out in front of your face, chances are you wouldn't be able to see it: you couldn't see anything. The far away corners of the room seemed even darker, still standing out against the pitch blackness that filled the entire area of the room. Not a lantern or even the merest flicker of a candle graced the room's presence to offer a little comfort; even the luminescent moon was nowhere to be found. There was not an ounce of light that escaped from under the crack of the bottom of the door from the hallway outside. **_

'_**Drip Drip Drip …' **_

_**The child sat huddled up in a corner of the room, she was so cold. Despite the smallness of the room it was freezing but still the temperature continued to plummet even further, it was well into the minus scale: the biting cold seared through her every limb, the thin material of her worn-out dress not enough to shield her from it. She hugged her knees closer to her body in a vain attempt to try and keep warm, even though she knew it to be futile.**_

_**Crawling across the floor and wincing as the cold made contact with her bare flesh she reached for the thin dirty blanket that covered the bed. Her young frame was aching, every bone in her body protested as she shakily made to stand up. Holding a hand out in the darkness to try and keep her balance she involuntarily screamed out in pain as her palm met with the metal spoke sticking out of the worn iron frame of the bed: it pierced into her fragile skin like a knife stabbing her and slicing deep into the flesh. She couldn't see it but she could feel the pain and she could feel the stickiness as it began to bleed.**_

_**Taking the blanket off the bed she wrapped it around her as tight as she could in a last ditch attempt to capture even a miniscule amount of warmth before sliding down the wall and sinking into a heap on the floor, cradling her injured hand close to her. Her long dark hair hung over her face like a curtain; masking the tears now rapidly pouring from her deep brown eyes. **_

'_**Drip Drip Drip …' **_

_**Aside from the continuous and melodious dripping of the water, it was silent: too silent. Not even the scurrying of mice or spiders echoed in her ears. And then she heard it; the very sound that chilled her to the very core, sending a shiver down her spine a thousand times colder than the temperature she was currently being subjected to ever could. **_

_**It started off so faint and far off in the distance.**_

'_**Click click click …'**_

_**It got closer.**_

'_**Click click click …'**_

_**It got louder.**_

'_**Click click click …'**_

_**Wiping roughly under her eyes to rid herself of any obvious signs she had been crying she waited, she didn't even dare breath aloud, instead holding it in her throat; her eyes were wide with pure terror unable to tear themselves away from the door, even though she knew all too well what monster lurked on the other side.**_

_**She waited.**_

_**And waited. **_

_**She listened as the clicking finally came to a halt, as the key was placed in the door and turned, the click of the lock echoing around the walls of the room. She watched as the handle was pressed down and very slowly turned; it was exaggeratedly slow, she knew she was doing it deliberately in order to draw out further terror. She watched as the door creaked open; the hinges in desperate need of a good oiling, it was like nails being scraped down a blackboard. **_

_**As soon as the door was fully opened she was forced to shield her eyes, the sudden entrance of light in the room momentarily blinding her. She was unable to make out the figure coming towards her, but she could still hear the clicking of the heels. They got louder and louder; they neared closer and closer. She could just about make out as a hand reached out, a bright stream of magic erupting from the fingertips and hurtling straight at her and then …**_

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Constance Hardbroom screamed as she awoke suddenly finding herself thrust back into the present day; memories of the past continuing to haunt her once more. She was just grateful for the self-installed sound-proofing spell contained around her chamber: it wasn't advisable or particularly sensible, a potential danger if anything were to ever invade her room, but it kept her screams safe within the confines: she would never live down the embarrassment or the shame if anyone were ever to witness her in the middle of a nightmare.

Running a hand through her hair she swept it back in order to get the loose strands out of her eyes; a thin sheet of sweat gleaned across her forehead, plastering her hair to her face. Her eyes were usually so controlled and her emotions hard to read but now they were wide with terror; the vulnerability pooling in her brown irises as hot salty tears spilled down her cheeks and onto the satin collar of her purple pyjamas.

She hated how _she_ could take control of her mind the way she did; snaking herself around her consciousness and grabbing the reins of control. She couldn't stop her. She would fight to escape the nightmares frequently but she couldn't stop them from happening.

Much as she didn't want to she forced herself to think of the nightmare she'd just had. Whilst nightmares of her childhood were a common occurrence, usually kept at bay with the use of her saviour wide-awake potion, recently they had become more vivid and as of late, more prominent. She didn't believe in coincidences so she took it for what it was: a warning.

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The next morning Constance sat at her dressing table applying a thin layer of make-up to her features; her touch light and delicate, having had years of practice covering up her imperfections. The dark circles under her eyes were indicative of the sleepless night she'd had but it could partly be concealed. Her hand shook so much she could barely control the mascara wand as she applied a light coat to her eyes and not wanting to take her eye out with it she eventually gave in, throwing the tube at the mirror in a fit of temperament before becoming annoyed with herself for not keeping her composure. A thin coat of burgundy lipstick and her mask was in place.

* * *

"How are we going to tell her?" Imogen's voice could be heard through the staffroom door.

"Tell me what Miss Drill?" the tones wafted through the air before their owner appeared to confront her colleagues; annoyed at being talked about behind her back and even more annoyed at the sympathy they held for her. "Tell me what?"

It was then she noticed it. The letter lying on the table so innocently, she recognised the black and cream monogram of the Witches Guild instantly. She didn't need to look at the writing to know who had sent it; she didn't need to read it to know what it said. She just knew.

Heckitty Broomhead was coming back to Cackles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch. And the song lyric belongs to Lana Del Rey ;)  
**

**A/N: Apologies for the delay, life has kept me busy and I am having a few *ahem* ... issues with my laptop, in that it's starting to fall apart, which is why it has taken me a bit of time to get here. It actually cut off whilst I was typing this chapter up, so this version is done from memory more than anything else so I hope it reads okay ... *fingers crossed* **

**Thank you for the reviews so far and extra special thanks goes to the lovely Dissecting Pomegranates who has put up with my bitching and played idea ping-pong with moi. *hands cupcake*:) **

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_**'Oh, she starts to cry, mascara runnin' down her little Bambi eyes'**_

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**Chapter 2_  
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Closing the heavy wooden door and sliding the bolt across she was finally alone. Free from the concerned looks her colleagues had been exchanging all day when they thought she wasn't looking, ever since the letter had arrived. There was an eerie sense of deja vu: the situation mirrored that of the previous year, when the arrival of a letter had shaken the usually unflappable deputy; something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the inhabitants of the school. And the subsequent arrival of her former tutor, who had been made her legal guardian, following the death of her mother when she was just 8 years old, had shown there to be faint cracks in the mask of indifference she portrayed.

A small sigh escaped from her lips as she leant against the back of the door; her perfect posture slumping slightly from the weight of carrying the world on her shoulders, coupled with the exhaustion of keeping up the pretence that she was 'fine'. It still shocked her how easily the word rolled off her tongue, especially when it was a lie; so far from the truth, and yet said so often it was almost believable … almost.

She allowed her eyes to momentarily close as the revelation of the day finally washed over her, like the waves of a rough tempestuous tide crashing onto the beach and sweeping away the tiny granules of sand with its sheer power; it held no prisoners, it granted no mercy. Long suppressed memories outwith her control were beginning to bubble up to the surface as images flashed before her mind; screams echoed in her ears, screams that had once fallen from her own lips. Screams she knew to be futile. Screams that had eventually died away to nothing more than whispered pleas of innocence and apologies as she had begged her tutor to stop; barely able to get the words out such was the agony she was being subjected to.

It was something she had wanted to avoid at all costs, yet it was something she had envisaged, for Constance Hardbroom was nothing if not a realist, and the logical part of her mind had always known it could be a possibility again ... one day. Especially since Heckitty now knew where she had been hiding for all those years, having discovered at the inspection last year. She had sniffed her out like a shark sniffs out the blood in the vast waters of the world, before sneaking up on the unsuspecting human and devouring them whole. Heckitty knew where she was, and she was never going to let her be free. Her nightmare the previous evening had told her that much, and the letter had merely confirmed it. Secretly though she had prayed that's all it was, just another nightmare. Another nightmare of the past; something that she would never escape.

It turned out that 'one day' was to be a lot sooner than she thought or would have liked. In all honesty though she could have a lifetime to prepare and it would be nowhere near enough to ready her to face her again. Luck nor time was on her side and in just three days time Cackle's Academy would receive another inspection from OFWITCH, to be carried out by non-other than the very woman herself: Mistress Heckitty Broomhead.

And in all honesty she was petrified.

Beyond petrified.

Her sense of terror so heightened it was taking every inch of control she possessed not to break down there and then; to fall to her knees screaming how it wasn't fair, but it wasn't her. It wasn't how she did things. It was even reflected in her name: she was constant; resolute; loyal in times of trouble and difficulty. She was the Academy's pillar of hope; their tower of strength, and their fountain of knowledge. Everyone thought that the formidable potions mistress didn't suffer from fear and that's what she led them to believe; it reinforced the image she portrayed to the world, but it was far from the truth. She suffered from fear alright, just like any normal person did: the only difference was she'd learned to control her fear. To stay calm in the face of adversity, for if you allow your fear to consume you then you would never get anywhere. To cower was to give in; and giving in was not something Constance Hardbroom did easily.

She was ashamed to even admit that the notion of running away had crossed her mind, if only for a second, but when it came down to it, she couldn't do it: she had a duty to her colleagues and her girls.

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes but she quickly blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. Refusing to show weakness; even the slightest chink in her armour, the slightest thing that could be used against her, even though there was no one there to witness it. If you were to merely glance in her direction you would be none the wiser, if you were to blink, then you would miss it, as on the surface she still remained her usual calm and composed self; the ice-queen of the Academy, but underneath, she was anything but, the panic so extreme it threatened to overwhelm her.

The panic.

The fear.

It was like the feeling of a bony hand crushing down on her windpipe and cutting off her oxygen supply: the same bony hand that had once wrapped itself around her fragile neck; their grip getting tighter and tighter while she fought desperately for air, her fingernails clawing desperately to try and release the grip suffocating her before the blackness threatening to envelope her seeped across her vision for good. Reaching up she undid the top few buttons on the restrictive collar of the neck of her dress in a bid to let some air flow back into her lungs.

Whether it was unbridled fear, the lack of air, or a mixture of both, she didn't know but she felt very light-headed, her shaking limbs were betraying her; failing to support her weight. Placing a hand on the wall to use for support she slowly made her way over to the chair at her dressing table and sank gracefully, and gratefully into it. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart down, she slowly raised her head and stared into the mirror: her eyes, the only thing that betrayed the façade completely; wide-eyed she was unable to hide the terror in them, unable to hide the glimmer beneath the surface.

Like herself, Heckitty also wore a mask; the only difference was that whilst her own concealed the broken woman she wanted to shield from the world, hers hid the true darkness of her character: the very definition of pure evil on the surface, but underneath it, she was so much worse; the way she could manipulate a situation and use it to her advantage ...

It was everything about the woman; the deadly eyes that burned into her own; the clipped tones of pure poison that fell from her tongue and venomous syllables that dripped in her ear, the sound as the heels clicked against the stone floor: it was everything that reminded her of a past she had tried hard to forget.

Her past was her best kept secret, or her worst depending on how one looked at it. Whilst her colleagues were now aware that Heckitty Broomhead had been her personal tutor whilst she had been at Witch Training College, no-one was aware of the true horrors she had suffered at the hands of that woman.

Heckitty Broomhead had ruled with an iron fist, stepping out of line was at your own peril, and no-one had ever dared to put so much as even one toe over the line for fear of the consequences. Not that it had made much difference where she had been concerned. She'd kept her head down as much as she could; not spoken unless she was spoken to; tried her hardest to deliver total perfection at all times in her spells, potions and general decorum and yet it was never enough. It never even came close. That gaze had burned into her like a red hot fire, watching her 365 days of the year, following her like a shadow, never giving her a moments respite, hunting her down. Like an arrow she'd targeted her, picked on her, broken her down to nothing but a mere shell and then rebuilt her as a carbon copy of her own ice-queen image. Never allowed to smile, laugh, or cry.

She could still feel the tears as they burned in her eyes and blurred her vision; the image of her reflection now nothing but a blur, a distorted picture. Almost mockingly a lone tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek, she wiped it away but another soon fell, then another and another. The barrier broke as the metal eroded on her cage of self-control; the cage that housed every emotion and feeling locked away tight out of sight, and tears that weren't caused under the effects of a nightmare streamed down her cheeks for the first time in over a decade. Her mascara smudged from the water of her tears, causing the streaks of black to trickle down her cheeks. Standing out against her porcelain skin; it was a stark reminder of her tainted past.

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A sly smile spread across Heckitty Broomhead's face, her thin lips curling into a cruel smirk as she swirled the brandy glass in her hand; the brown liquid splashing up against the edges of the glass. Faking the letter had been so easy. The plan was in motion and soon, she picked up an old photograph from the desk; it was in black and white but there was no mistaking one of the people in it. Tracing the outline of the figure with her finger, the lifeless eyes in the picture stared back at her, she would have her prize.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch.  
**

**A/N:*waves* much love and cupcakes goes to HB Rules for her lovely review. :) and thank you as well to Dissecting Pomegranates who had a wee look over this chapter before I published it. :)**

**Part of this may cause me a bit of a problem down the line, but the thought came into my head when I was listening to Jar of Hearts earlier on. (love Christina Perri, but Lea Michele's cover version in season 2 of Glee was so beautiful!)**

**I probably won't update again for a week or so as I leave for my week in the Sun come the weekend, and I have organised nothing - not clothes, not currency. Nothing!  
**

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**Chapter 3  
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Three days.

Three days had now passed by since the letter had arrived and now just a mere two hours remained until Heckitty Broomhead was due to arrive. Bang on the dot; not a minute before nor after, she would enter the hallowed halls of the Academy, stepping over its threshold ready to inflict her venom with a natural ease.

She felt sick.

Closing her eyes she massaged her throbbing temples, to try and ease the headache she knew was down to a mixture of stress and a lack of sleep. Sleep … it was something she hadn't even attempted for she knew it would be futile to even try. The minute she surrendered control of the outside world, and fell into the prison of her own mind, the nightmares would be there; waiting for her. They were ready. Like a gang of vultures swooping down to feast on the dead corpse.

Draining the contents of the ever faithful wide-awake, and placing the empty vial on the table she glanced back to the clock and inwardly groaned upon seeing that barely a few minutes had passed by. Time was toying with her it would seem; each second that ticked by seemed slower than usual, almost as if it was deliberately drawing the process out, prolonging the agony and triumphing as she shifted with unease. Part of her hated the precious commodity that was time. Yes, it allowed for one to plan one's day accordingly therefore ensuring productivity, but it served as a constant reminder of the past, when she had been under Heckitty's rule; where everything had to be timed to perfection, when not even a second was allowed to go to waste. And of course, it reminded her of all the other times she had sat and watched the hands of the clock, waiting, only to be greeted with nothing but disappointment when the hour had finally came upon her.

Scrutinising her appearance for the final time she sighed. Nothing, not even a hair could be out of place, and nothing could go wrong. It certainly wouldn't take much for Broomhead to exercise the power she wielded in society, and she knew that it would probably give her immense pleasure to be able to cut off the Guild Approved Status, and close down the school. True to form she'd kept it to herself but there was a feeling, a feeling that had been niggling away in her mind for days now; a feeling she was unable to shake off: that this visit was really a cover up; something to disguise her true motives. She'd tried to put it to the back of her mind, but every so often without warning it would creep to the forefront as her mind envisioned twisted scenario, after scenario.

As much as she wished the visit wasn't happening, it was and there was nothing that could change that. She was just going to have to try and get through it the best she could; play her best poker face by blocking out the emotions that would threaten to override and shatter the front she displayed for if the mask fell, then so would she. It was the only thing to do. Besides, they would just get in the way and make matters worse. That's what emotions did; be it fear, hatred or even … love. She had given her heart away once, and it hadn't exactly ended well. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated and betrayed as she had on … that day.

It was something she hadn't thought about in a long time, yet she couldn't believe so much time had passed by; it seemed like only yesterday. Opening the drawer of the dressing table she hesitated before taking out a black velvet box, carefully opening the lid she took the object from it, being careful to be delicate as she toyed with it between her fingers. She didn't even know why she had kept it; even now the pain and anger was still raw, but it was a reminder. A reminder of the life she could've had; it was what could have been, and what nearly was. And it was a reminder to never again be so trusting in anyone.

She was startled out of her reverie by a knock on the door, as a soft voice called out through the wood.

"Constance?"

Replacing the contents of the box she snapped the lid shut, before hastily shoving it back in the drawer.

"Constance?"

Stealing a quick glance in the mirror to check her composure was still intact she called out "Come in."

The door opened to reveal the headmistresses' kindly features, and the concern etched across them.

"Constance? Are y-"

"I'm fine" she cut in, a little more harshly than she had intended. Maybe she was trying to convince herself? "Miss Cackle. Thank you" Rising from her chair she ushered the headmistress out of the room before closing the door behind them. "Now, don't we have an assembly to take?"

Amelia stared at her for a few moments, she wasn't at all convinced; it was obvious that Constance was lying and in truth was far from 'fine'; but she couldn't force her to talk to her. And she knew Constance would never admit to being anything less than that, "yes, yes we do."

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The last of the girls filed into the Great Hall and took their usual seats as they continued to quietly murmur to their friends. It didn't take a genius to work out what they were all talking about, with the words 'inspection', 'Broomhead', and 'Hardbroom' all muttered in the same sentence. At least, they thought they had muttered, of course every word had been heard by Constance. It pained her to know just how obvious her fear must be.

Most of them still couldn't believe the sheer audacity that Heckitty possessed. Last time she'd been at the school she'd attempted to close it down, and if it hadn't of been for a bit of ingenuity on their fellow pupil Sybil Hallow's part; digging up something from her past, that she wouldn't want getting out and damaging her reputation, and therefore inadvertently finding themselves with a chip with which to bargain, she would most certainly have succeeded and yet here she was, set to return.

As soon as Miss Cackle had received the letter, the teachers had called an assembly to forewarn the girls, and to formulate a plan of action. Classes had been cancelled and the past two days had been solely dedicated to getting the school up to a standard that would pass Heckitty's high expectations. Cleaning the school from top to bottom hadn't exactly been anyone's idea of fun, but they all understood the utmost importance of it, even going as far as to put aside any differences and rivalries in a temporary truce in order to cooperate with each other and get the job done. Any documents that could reflect badly on the school had been carefully disposed of and everyone had been briefed on _**exactly**_ how to behave. They all knew what was expected of them and were aware of the potential consequences for all of them, if they behaved anything less than perfect. Constance Hardbroom had already been **_more_** than crystal clear on what would happen if they even dared to try.

Mildred Hubble, though still half-asleep had heard, along with the rest of the hall, the faint tremor that the potion's teacher had tried and failed to keep from her voice. The tone hadn't been as firm as it normally was; it was as if the confidence was slowly stripping away from her. And even in her somewhat sleepy state couldn't help but wonder of the history between her and the school inspector. She had noticed the way her teacher had been the last time that woman had came to the academy;her paling skin, her eyes wide; she remembered the look her and her teacher had exchanged, it had lasted barely more than a few seconds but it had been one of gratitude, one of a mutual understanding. What could Broomhead have done, to make even the notorious HB afraid?

A voice suddenly broke through, startling her out of her thoughts and questions.

"Is that clear?"

Looking up she noticed the woman in question was looking straight at her; the brown eyes in a piercing gaze directed right at her. "Ah, Mildred Hubble, how nice of you to join us again" she simpered. "I said, is that clear?"

She could feel all eyes of the hall on her and shifted in her seat.

"I-"

The raised eyebrow indicated she was still awaiting an answer, and that she wanted it sooner rather than later.

"Yes Miss Hardbroom"

For a moment it looked like the teacher was about to make some other comment, but eventually settled for a crisp "Good."

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Placing a hand on the door handle Amelia waited a second before opening it so she would be right on the hour; seeing Heckitty's fist mid-air as if was she was getting ready to knock, she secretly triumphed. One hurdle had been crossed at least. Punctuality was everything to Heckitty Broomhead; she had failed schools for it before. After all a minute wasted, was a minute lost, and in the world of witch education, those precious minutes soon added up; making the difference in her book, between a good witch, and a great one.

"Good morning Mistress Broomhead. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

The reply was shrift; her whole air already displaying her displeasure.

"Satisfactory."

"Yes, well-would you like to come along to my office for a cup of tea perhaps?"

"No, thank you. Now, if you do excuse me, I must be getting on." With that she swept past Amelia and strode off down the corridor, leaving Amelia to practically run down the corridor to catch up with her.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Nibbling at her biscuit Amelia reflected on how the day had actually gone a lot better than she had expected it to. Heckitty had found no fault with the school. In fact, she had been almost… friendly. There was a sentence she never thought could exist.

"Miss Cackle", Heckitty's voice broke through the silence of the staffroom "I wonder if I might trouble you to spend the night here? There was a problem with the bed and breakfast I had planned to stay in. Double booking. I don't like to intrude, but I've rather a big day ahead of me."

"I –um" she glanced at Constance, who's eyes were focussed solely on her cup of tea. Thereby avoiding contact with everyone. "yes, yes I suppose so."

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork that needs tending to." With that she folded her arms and disappeared.

Constance stared at the spot where her former tutor had been standing only moments before. That, if nothing else had confirmed what she already suspected. She knew that look; Heckitty was up to something, and she was going to be damn sure she found out what it was.

* * *

Despite her best efforts Mildred Hubble had an uncanny knack of trouble attaching itself to her undone bootlaces. It may of just been bad luck, but no matter what she did, she always seemed to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On this particular ocassion she hadn't been looking where she was going and tripping over an undone lace, had found herself in an unintentional collision with Heckitty Broomhead. Knocking the older witch over and sending her sprawling to the floor in the most undignified manner, the papers she had been carrying had scattered; floating through the air before falling to the ground. The glower aimed in her direction sent a shiver down her spine a thousand times colder than any look Hardbroom could give; there was something so unatural about those eyes, a pure malevolance seemed to dance within.

"I'm s-sorry M-Mistress Broomhead" the young witch stammered, but yet bravely held out a hand to help her up. Heckitty looked upon the hand as if she could catch some horrible disease by merely coming into contact with it. Fully ignoring it and untangling her limbs she stood to her feet, smoothed down her dress, snatched the papers up and strode off down the corridor, the worn down heels clicking every step of the way.

"Wait, Miss you forgot-" she broke off as she bent down to retrieve the lone piece of paper. Turning it over she noticed it was blank; it may have been down to her overactive imagination but she could've sworn she could see the faint markings of writing on it.

"Millie!" looking up she saw her best friend Maud calling out her name as she closed the gap between them. "There you are, are you coming?"

"Yes"

Stuffing the paper in her bag amongst her books and sketchbook, she soon forgot about it.

* * *

Standing invisibly behind the old oak tree in the forest, Constance's eyes widened as she watched on, the scene unfolding before her very eyes. Another witch approached Heckitty the leaves crunching underneath their feet as they made their way to the meeting point. A witch she was familiar with.

"Well, do they suspect anything?"

Heckitty merely sniffed and brushed down her dress. "Of course not" she replied after a few minutes. "What do you take me for?" Her eyes pierced into the other witch's; danger flashed in them: a warning.

The intensity of the glare unnerved the other witch, who backed down almost instantly. Normally she would never be so spineless, but so much rested on this. For this to work she needed her assistance; without it, everything would fall to pieces, and all the planning would go to waste. They had one chance. And she wasn't going to do anything that could potentially jeopardise it. She wasn't even going to point out that meeting when it was still light seemed a very stupid thing to do; anybody could see them.

"I'm sorry, I do apologise."

Staring at her for a few minutes longer, convinced she meant it Heckitty broke the gaze and nodded "Good. Now we'll go over the plan one final time shall we … make sure we know what we're about? Hmm …"

As she stood listening to the conversation between the two witches Constance couldn't believe it … well, actually she could, given the reputation of the two of them. She couldn't let this go ahead; she just couldn't. She feared Heckitty, but her care for the school and those in it outweighed that fear.

Chanelling her energy she made to appear to catch them in the act; to confront them, and fight them if necessary. So long as those she cared for would be safe. She felt the charge of energy build up inside her as it usually did but instead of appearing in her full form, nothing happened. Something wasn't right. Infact something was very wrong. Something was stopping her from appearing, blocking her magic; she was neither visible nor invisible, neither existing nor non-existing. Trapped between two voids, wandering aimlessly through time. A fast panic was starting to set in. Being caught in limbo meant she was currently experiencing a severe-and quickly running out- lack of oxygen making each breath she took more difficult than the last. The effort just to get the air into her lungs a mammoth task in itself.

Squeezing her eyes shut and speaking the words under her breath she focused all the energy she had on materialising, the world around her blurred for a few seconds that felt more like an eternity, before everything came into focus; all her senses were assualted at once as she stumbled into the familiar surroundings of the potions laboratory. Clutching a hand to her chest and pressing the other against the door she took a few deep breaths as the oxygen flooded back into her lungs.

She needed to tell Miss Cackle. They needed a plan.

And fast.

* * *

She reached out for the door handle when the temperature in the lab suddenly dropped, an icy chill spreading through the air. She knew she was there.

She knew she was there before she even appeared.

"Has anyone ever told you Constance" she broke off as she fully appeared behind the desk "that it is rude to eavesdrop?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Worst Witch'  
**

**A/N: Greetings folks! I apologise for the delay in updates, although I'm not overly sorry since I spent last week sunning myself in 30c heat and adding to my handbag collection. Phone drafts and a beach formed the basis of this chapter :D  
**

**As I'm still in a celebratory mood (because as of yesterday I am now officially HRH Princess Sammi, Bachelor of Arts in Business & Management!) *hands out free virtual champagne/apple juice***

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**Chapter 4  
**

Sitting at the desk in the staffroom Amelia gave a small sigh as she scored a line through the letter she had been writing, before crumpling it up and tossing it behind her into the nearly full wastepaper basket. Reaching for a fresh piece of parchment, and picking up her quill, she started from scratch.

'_Dear Chief Wizard Hellibore' _

The Wizard had offered to come to the Academy at the end of the following month to give a lecture to the girls on the advanced arts of sorcery. It was a fantastic opportunity, promising them new knowledge of the magical craft. It was an opportunity she would normally have jumped at but today, as she struggled to write a reply, her heart just wasn't in it. And neither was her mind it seemed, as she noticed she'd spelt 'gracious' wrong. She just couldn't concentrate. The only thing on her mind was Constance.

As soon as she'd received the letter and noticed the distinguished monogram of the Witches Guild she had felt her heart sink. The Witches Guild didn't send out letters very often, normally only when witches needed to be brought up-to-date with any new changes in legislation that were to be implemented, and even when they did it was usually countersigned by whichever branch of the Guild it referred to. In the case of magical education, it was headed by OFWITCH, and OFWITCH was headed by one Mistress Heckitty Broomhead and whilst most others would no doubt have delegated the task to a subordinate, she knew for certain that Heckitty would jump at the chance to come back to Cackles and to unsettle her deputy once more.

She hadn't been privy to many of the details of Constance's past, and she suspected that few had. Even getting the younger woman to part with the basics had been like drawing blood from a stone. She knew that Constance had graduated from Witch Training College with first class honours. WTC was one of the most elite education establishments in the country; only the crème de la crème of witches were even considered for a place there and if they were lucky enough to gain one, it was far from fun and games. It required a serious discipline and a serious dedication. Heckitty Broomhead had been described by many, including Constance herself, as relentless. She worked her students to their maximum limit and then beyond: their bodies and their minds exhausted, all in the name of education.

In the past there had been rumours circling her 'teaching' methods but nothing had ever stuck. Working her way up in society had given Heckitty the means to wield a huge amount of power and exert an incredible amount of influence. If you weren't for her, then you were against her, and if you were against her, then your life wasn't worth living. It was through fear, and not necessarily a true belief, that people had chosen to sweep the rumours under the carpet, scared of what would happen if they dared to dig any deeper.

She had never really stopped to consider them before, that was until she had met Constance. There was something in her eyes; a deep sadness seemed to resonate behind the brown irises. It was clear that Constance was an exceptionally skilled witch, no-one could argue any different. Her command of power was almost unheard of, but it was also obvious that it had come at a high price. And it was then she had began to wonder if the rumours that had sent gossip into overdrive for decades may have in fact been true.

It was a thought that had plagued her mind, knowing she could never ask Constance as Constance would never tell. Over the years thoughts and theories had evolved in her mind; her question soon to be answered when she had received the letter from the Guild informing them that Heckitty Broomhead was coming to Cackles to inspect the school.

She would never forget the sheer terror she could feel emitting from her deputy; she had never seen her like that before, and it had scared the hell out of her. Constance was always so dependable; always so strong and stoic, yet on that day glimpses of a dark past had came to light as had glimpses of a scared little girl hidden beneath the icy façade.

Ever the professional Constance had put on a front all day, as she had desperately tried not to let her fear or her emotions derail her. She had held it together all day but as soon as Heckitty had left the grounds of the Academy she had made her excuses and disappeared for the majority of the evening. She had never asked her where she had been, but she knew that Constance enjoyed the tranquility of the riverbank, where there she could control the elements of nature; making the river bend and twist before sending it crashing down over the rocks. Nothing more had been said about it and the next day had seen Constance return to work like a witch possessed.

Yet here they were in nearly the exact same situation as the previous year. In fact this time it was even worse as Heckitty had requested to spend the night in the castle. She'd been thrown when the request had been made and had looked to Constance for an answer that she wouldn't get. Constance had kept her eyes locked firmly downwards, deliberately avoiding eye-contact with her but she had tightened her grip on the delicate handle of the teacup-a move that hadn't gone unnoticed-suggesting she was trying to keep her emotions intact. Deep down she knew they had no real choice in the matter but to appease Heckitty's request yet as soon as the words had left her tongue she'd immediately regretted it. The atmosphere was almost chilling, it had been felt in the castle since Heckitty had arrived earlier in the day; the woman just brought a negative energy wherever she went, it was a darker energy, something sinister lay beneath it.

Not long after Heckitty had left the staffroom Constance had also excused herself. Sensing like last time she probably wanted some time alone and knowing that she wouldn't appreciate the intrusion of her her privacy, she'd had no option but to let her be. Knowing that she would probably be down by the river and knowing that she wouldn't appreciate the fuss she had resolved to leave her for a while before going to try and talk to her, hoping she might be able to get her to open up. Stealing another glance at the clock she let out an audible sigh.

'_If she's not back in an hour or two, then I'll go and find her' _

Constance had said she was 'fine' earlier in the morning. That in itself was a lie; Constance was far from fine, but those two words said so often, signalled one thing. The end of the matter. She wished Constance would let her in a bit more, but every time she had tried in the past the walls would come up and Constance would retreat. After the duties had been completed early in the morning Constance had disappeared off for an hour.

It had almost pained her earlier in the morning to have to go and knock on her door to fetch her for the assembly. She'd delayed it for as long as she possibly could, but you couldn't freeze time.

* * *

As a PE teacher Imogen Drill was used to going running through the forest with the girls, she only wished they could share in her enthusiasm. There was something about running through the clearing and feeling the wind in her hair, being able to let go of all her inhibtions and feel free; there was something so euphoric about it. Running was her thing. It was something she turned to to unwind and after the stressful day of the inspection she felt a bit of running was warranted. True the inspection hadn't been as bad as the previous year and Heckitty had still paid very little attention to her as she was a 'non-witch', but she had still felt the impact of the day and needed to clear her mind. As she headed towards Walker's Gate and back to the school she felt a whole lot more positive.

Reaching the entrance of the school she slowed down to a slow jog and then a gentle walk. Heading towards the staffroom and looking forward to sinking into a chair with the new issue of 'Sports Illustrated' she took a fleeting glance through the window of the potions laboratory, fully expecting to see the potions mistress brewing some new concotion and almost had to do a double take. Tentatively placing a hand on the door she slowly pushed it open unable to believe what her eyes were telling her.

* * *

Unable to stand the wait any longer Amelia threw down her quill and dived up to the door, the quick movement felt by her aging limbs. Her hand was just on the door handle and no more when she felt the handle wrenched from her grasp as it burst open.

"Imogen! What on earth is the matter?"

"Amelia … potions lab …"

Those two words were all it took for fear to flood through Amelia's veins, coursing through them like ice. Her heart was in her mouth as she struggled for breath. As she practically ran from the staffroom her feet seemed to slow, unable to carry her very fast at all, but her mind was racing. Terrified at the sight that would confront her when she reached the laboratory.

Stopping short at the door they both surveyed the mess.

* * *

Broken glass littered the floor shining down like tiny diamonds on the floor. Shelves upon shelves of potions had been smashed to smithereens, liquids oozing everywhere as the contents ran into each other, creating mesmerising marble like patterns as the colours mixed together, as did the effects.

Carefully entering the room they stepped over the broken glass to inspect for further damage.

"Oh God" Imogen's voice broke through the silence in the room.

"W-what?" Amelia quietly voiced, her voice barely above a whisper as her whirling mind attempted to process the sight that she had been confronted with.

Following Imogen's gaze she soon noticed what she was looking at. There at the back of the room lay a pool of blood, small droplets dripping from the corner of the desk as they hit the floor with a steady thump, falling in perfect sync with the ticking of the clock.


End file.
